Poetry Blogs (failure)
Devon Brock on no more the demanding sound of his snapping fingers (35 minutes ago)
trevor homer on STILL LIVES, DISTANT VOICES - a love story in 4. acts. (5 hours ago)
After I lost you,
If I stop
You to adore
Or begin you to abhor,
I never loved
Even if I am aware
You are no longer mine
I will take that fine.
Exchanging with you
By itself is a
Monday 3rd December 2018 2:00 pm
My insides writhe like pit of snakes
As my mind runs away.
It flees from my mistakes,
Made with good intent,
As fast as my ambition got me there.
Why does my ego tote me around like a child?
Why does it feel like I'm always being punished
By my mundane thoughts?
What am I doing?
I eat the snake.
I abandon my ambition.
I punish myself from now on.
Monday 10th September 2018 9:37 am
Sorry for the length, but I wrote this after something that happened to one of my students a few days ago. It's the first thing I've written in a long time that is probably a song.
With acknowledgements to John Lennon
I see your tears falling
It really breaks my heart
I know right now you believe
Your world just fell apart
You can’t see through the darkness
The next move ...
Tuesday 31st July 2018 12:17 am
A poem about getting old... and staying young.
May I Never
I may never rule the world with theories so fine
May never run past Bolt, smile and duck across the line.
I may never meet Mandela, Obama or the Queen,
I may never solve all wars, or stop leaders being mean.
I may never reach a hundred, run for thirty miles,
I may never help the hungry, turn their cries to happy...
Wednesday 10th January 2018 10:33 am
I feel the pricks of sand beneath my tender hands,
As though I were sat atop a shattered glass beach,
With my head cocked towards the blissful Sky.
I don't understand how this could be;
As I do not feel,
the pain of others within the crevices of my fingers.
For I was born to rain upon this world,
In magnificent showers.
But where I am now
-- between the se...
Monday 5th June 2017 6:04 pm
Looking towards my hands,
I feel them mutter a tone,
Of disdain and sadness,
Dirty and pale, bleeding out from within.
The colors of the honeycomb which is my life,
Building in a way to demonstrate the failures and flaws of my being,
To make it simply this: I feel trapped.
Trapped between the Rock and the grass of an ever developing future,
One, of course, that I ...
Monday 5th June 2017 5:57 pm
How many times can one person be reinvented
I have run from myself so many times
I have fled from who I am
in order to be someone better
But always I fall short
Always I fail
Always I become someone changed but still the same
Always I leave behind the good
And carry with me the bad
I flee from the things I hate
Like a bat out of hell
I try to outrun the parts of my...
Thursday 27th April 2017 12:56 am
It is an anti-climactical relapse into the repression and suppression of life.
You'll be on a cloud of positivity held in the captivity of optimism.
And then as if your minds been hit by a tun of bricks that indicate the euphemism of the candidness of reality.
As you get older you realise that the higher you climb the further it is to fall,
so you get indecisive between the f...
Monday 28th November 2016 8:04 am
Rub a dub dub
three men in a tub
drifting to the bottom
of their watery club.
Each day descend new members
raining through the surf
like floating fiery embers
burning out their worth,
reduced to something
less than smoke
deep down submerged
its here they choke.
Where hope succumb’s
to a refugee’s sea,
no longer a burden
to whoever it be,...
Saturday 11th June 2016 12:38 pm
On The Slag Heap
Quenching the eternal flame,
the furnaces won’t burn again,
the northern dragons will lay still -
the Government has had its fill.
At its heart a molten core
that will implode and beat no more.
The mill will close, the light will die
and in the dark the ghosts will cry.
The workers will go home to bed
not knowing if their family’s fed...
Monday 28th September 2015 8:26 pm
Waking up from another bad dream
Or maybe I was having a flashback
Cause most of the time, I can't tell what’s real or not
And the line between reality and fantasy begins to blur.
In the mirror, I'm the one that everyone wants to be
Like the jocks on the football team
Or those famous Hollywood stars you see on T.V.
But in the real world, I'm just a boy with a broken pen.
So I get dress...
Wednesday 18th February 2015 4:42 am
(This poem is the second part to my previous poem 'My Beautiful Lie' http://www.writeoutloud.net/public/blogentry.php?blogentryid=36793)
The lie I created I hid far behind,
Blind - vacuous and vapid, my rapid descent
Into madness was sealed, with gladness
The concealed face of my own lot was lost
And the cost of this deception was total,
Brutal at the very point of inception...
Friday 1st November 2013 9:58 am
Plebeian culture wanders out and proud –
The cult of drugs; discordant music jams;
Moronic rap and savage hip-hop ‘slams’:
Unchecked emotion snarled in hate aloud.
Now I, for one, take quite another view
and give plebeian culture not a glance;
mere childish chaff born of unhappy chance,
a savage skit to which scant praise is due.
But why is it esteemed, and...
Tuesday 2nd July 2013 2:02 am
Almost drowned in it
Just you name it
I’ll have tried
Been traumatised by it
Reduced to tears by it
Laughed and cried
Wished I hadn’t bothered s...
Monday 24th June 2013 4:00 pm